Weak
by cattail prophetess
Summary: A little nameless dialogue which I hope is clear enough. There's a boy with his head on his knees who can't bear his own weakness; gritting his teeth and knowing no one can understand. He looks rather hot doing it, too.. :)


Rated- erm, PG-13, I suppose. For angstiness and swearing.  
'Cept for Ravus, they're all JKR's.  
  
Weak  
  
I am sitting with my head between my knees because someone once told me it keeps you from fainting. This is how weak I feel. The nightmare has run me ragged and I am struggling to live with it when she comes in.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here," I say, feeling lost. Has she been sent to comfort me? I think so.  
  
She grins. "Yeah. I know."  
  
I try to grin back, but I can't. It hurts too much.  
  
"Shit," she says kindly. "I'm really sorry, you know. That was horrible, absolutely horrible of him. Someone could have been killed. Or-" she stops, looking at me uncomfortably. She hasn't known for as long as they have.  
  
"You're allowed to say it," I tell her, sarcastically. "Unless you find it unbearable to even speak of such a dread thing."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Yeah, well, so am I."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"You know what for."  
  
"It's not-"  
  
"Please," I say. "Please, just go away."  
  
She goes away, but not before touching my arm and whispering "You can talk to me if you want. About it."  
  
Just what I /don't/ need.  
  
I really should have gone to classes today, but I didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like seeing them, both of them. I've worked through bruises and gashes countless times, but I just couldn't today. I couldn't. I'm too weak.  
  
I sit in bed for the longest time. I wonder where the others are. Including him. Probably off somewhere. Stupid of me to call them my friends. My kind doesn't make friends. I should have remembered that. But I didn't.  
  
Finally I hear them down in the common room, and I ease myself up off my bed. I'm raw, always am afterwards. I don't want to see him but I definitely will if I stay, so I creep down the stairs and, without looking at any of them, climb out the portrait hole.  
  
I wander aimlessly down to the Great Hall. I didn't eat today- didn't have an appetite. I never do, especially afterward. There's no one in the entire Hall, except for Ravus Malfoy, who eats lunch slowly. I don't know why I find myself wanting to talk to her- although she's supposedly a really good friend of my aspiring comforter, she always speaks in such a coded, erratic way that it's kind of hard to understand her. She's also supposedly /his/ friend.  
  
I walk over to the Ravenclaw table and say hello to her. She gives me an odd, searching look and suddenly tells me "He's furious at you."  
  
"I'm not surprised," I say.  
  
"Ranting and raving on," she continues, as if I haven't spoken, "about how you should be expelled for attempted murder or something."  
  
I probably should be.  
  
She finishes her sandwich, picks up her bag, and walks suddenly away. I consider yelling goodbye after her, but she turns around and tells me "He's being stupid, you know; it's not your fault," which disconcerts me so much that I really don't want anything else to do with her.  
  
Anyway, it /feels/ quite a lot like my fault. It always has. I ran away from home, you know, and this big dog... but it wasn't, of course, and then when my father left my mother told me it wasn't because of me, but I knew, I knew it was too much for him, and I didn't blame him because I wanted to leave myself too, and then when she got so tired and sad, and it was all because of me, they kept firing her from her jobs because I...  
  
Quite suddenly he, the other he, breezes into the Great Hall like it's nothing. "'Lo," he tells me cheerily. "Pity it didn't work, eh?"  
  
He seems almost surprised when I start to cry. "You bastard," I whisper. "All a laugh to you, isn't it? Everything's a laugh. You bloody bastard."  
  
"Sorry," he says. "I thought you'd be glad to-"  
  
I know he's not really sorry. He doesn't understand. Like I'm his own personal Killing Curse. The /bastard/.  
  
I want to dig my nails into his smug ugly little face. But he was my best friend, or so I thought before I remembered. And anyway, I'm far too fucking /weak/.  
  
  
Okay... that was weird. So, can you guess who it is? I'll give you a hint... he's really really hot... everyone loves him... he and I have the same color hair... 


End file.
